


Good Faith

by batty4u



Category: Suits (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-12
Updated: 2013-03-12
Packaged: 2017-12-05 03:14:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/718233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/batty4u/pseuds/batty4u
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If this had taught Mike anything, it was never challenge old men to poker, never insult a man in a kilt and never, never, make a bet with a 94 year old Scotsman. </p>
<p>(aka Mike loses a bet as has to wear a kilt to work)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Good Faith

**Author's Note:**

> Donald and the others are original characters I thought up for the story. Tartans are the fabric designs used to make Kilts, most celtic families have a tartan design in their name. you can look them up at tartanregistry.gov.uk, if you're curious. my first contribution to the fandom. a smut chapter may follow. 
> 
> Also, several quotes from the film Braveheart are used throughout the fic. If you can spot them, well done.
> 
> enjoy :)

Grammy had been popular at her Nursing Home, or so the nurses had told him. She was friendly and sweet to the other patients, was talkative and cheery during bingo and movie night, and had made friends with everyone on her floor. Once she had passed, Mike felt it his job to do the same. He’d set aside a few hours each week, once Harvey was done with him, to go to the home and have lunch with some of her friends. There were Marge and June, who he played yahtzee with, Nathaniel and Lucas and Howard, who tried to teach him poker, and the closest thing his grammy had to a boyfriend, Donald. He, despite not being religious in the least, would take Donald to church every sunday, followed by lunch at a little pub a few blocks away. And if Donald knocked back a beer or two, Mike would never tell. They swapped stories, Mike telling Donald about the ridiculous world of corporate law and Harvey’s antics and how he’d managed to accidentally call Michael Jordan. Donald’s stories were always better, Mike thought, stories about the wars he served in, growing up in a house full of sailors and docks men, all irish and scottish and drunk, back in the thirties.

One Sunday, Donald sported a Kilt to church. Why he did, he never told Mike, but he wore it proudly and with a dazzling, crooked smile, despite Mike’s teasing. That day at lunch, he made the mistake of betting Donald that he could beat Nathaniel, Lucas, and Howard at poker when they got back. He blamed the whiskey Donald shoved at him for his poor decision making.

They wiped the floor with him.

Which is why, the next week, Mike found himself hiding in the bathroom, changing out of his well fitted trousers and pulling on his very own kilt. He had gone to Rene for it, knowing that if he was going to piss Harvey off, he should at least do it with the help of someone Harvey trusted and wouldn’t fire on the spot. Rene had been both surprised and thrilled and within days Mike had his own kilt and proper suit jacket to match. He had emailed Jessica, explaining the situation, why Donald mattered, and to make sure he wouldn’t get in trouble. Her only reply was that he’d “better have something on under it or I will not hesitate to castrate you”. Donald had said that was alright.

The Bet was simple: Mike had lost the poker game, horribly mind you, and had to “man up” and wear a Kilt for the entire work day. If he could pull it off the entire day without changing, then he fulfilled his duty. If he changed, he owed Donald a trip to Atlantic City. If this had taught him anything, it was don’t make a bet with a 94 year old scotsman.

The Tartan was made of soft wool, the red lined with dark green and blue. Apparently Rene had taken the project to heart and had dug up the Ross family’s tartan design so he could get it right. Mike was a little worried he might try to put Harvey in one, not that Mike would ever complain about seeing that sight. It tickled his knees, the boxers he was wearing under it the only thing giving him security. At least no one could try and flip the kilt up to embarass him. The sporran was a dark leather with a little patch of gray (false, according to Rene) fur on it, where he had stashed his phone and keys. The socks were almost more ridiculous than the kilt itself but Rene had at least spared him from the tassels and let him wear his boots instead of dress shoes, so the socks that reach the bottom of his knees were a little less ridiculous. He sighed and fixed his jacket and tie, the dark navy blue of the blazer sharp against his pale throat. He fixed his hair and took a deep breath. He could do this. All he had to do was pretend like nothing was different. They didn’t have any meetings, no court hearings. The likelihood of a spontaneous rendezvous with a client or a surprise deposition was there, but not high, so even if it happened Mike would probably be alright. And with his luck, Harvey wouldn’t even let him leave the building. He could stomach the associates, the dicks that they were. They’d crack some jokes and harass him about it for the next fews months, but he could handle it. It wasn’t much worse than them accusing him of sleeping his way to the top. Maybe, he thought, with an inkling of hope, that Harvey would be pleased with him in uniform, maybe even a kink would come out of it.

He took one last look in the mirror and grabbed his things with a sigh.

Harvey was going to kill him.

Head held high, Mike made his way to his cubicle, well aware that people were staring. Some did double takes, like they weren’t sure it was actually him. Kyle and Greg started howling the moment he walked in, alternating between laughter and pathetic wolf whistles. Nina and a few of the other female associates just stared and giggled into their hands. Harold jumped up and greeted Mike with a smile.

“Dude you look awesome!” He exclaimed, pulling Mike into a hug, like his best friend showing up in the equivalent of a skirt wasn’t the strangest thing he’d seen.

God bless you, Harold, Mike thought.

“So what’s the occasion?” Harold asked, letting Mike dump his things at his desk and hide his clothes in his drawer, where Kyle and Greg couldn’t mess with them. “Is it a holiday or something? Are you in a club?”

“Learn from this, Harold,” He said. “Never make a bet with a 94 year old Scotsman. You will lose. And your dignity will suffer for it.”

“I don’t know, I think it’s kind of cool. It suits you even,” Harold said with a shrug, sitting back behind his desk.

“You going traditional, Ross?” Kyle asked with a sneer.

“Well if I am, you’re the last person who’s going to find out.” Mike flashed him a smile and Harold giggled.

“No but seriously, are you?” asked Jimmy.

“And risk Jessica castrating me? No thank you. And if she didn’t do it, Harvey would probably push me out a window. Speaking of,” He grabbed the files he owed Harvey and took a steadying breath. “Now, if I don’t return, it’s been semi-tolerable working with all of you. Do me a favor and get really wasted at my funeral, ok?”

“He’s going to skin you alive, Ross,” Kyle mused. Mike just shrugged. “No seriously, of all the bullshit you’ve pulled, this takes the cake.”

Greg made a nasty comment about trying to get attention as Mike scanned Kyle’s desk. Sitting by the computer were files he was sure belonged to Louis and he was even more sure they were supposed to be on Louis’ desk not Kyle’s.

“Well, Kyle, the Almighty tells me he can get me out of this mess,” Mike said, pulling his best Scottish accent, “but he's pretty sure you're fucked.”

“And what’s that supposed to-”

“Kyle!” Came Louis’ bellow. “Where are the deposition papers for this afternoon? I told you to have them on my desk first thing this morning!”

Mike flashed Kyle a grin and took off for Harvey’s office, darting around the corner before Louis caught sight of him. That was one conversation he wasn’t ready for.

Well, maybe he was more ready to deal with Louis than he was Donna. He approached her desk slowly, hoping that maybe, just this once, he could slip by her unnoticed, but she looked up and her eyes went wide.

“What the-”

“I lost a bet, I lost a bet,” Mike rambled, “I made a bet and I lost and I’m suffering please don’t make it any worse than it is.”

Donna was trying not to laugh, her face scrunched up and her cheeks flushed. “Oh my god, Mike.”

“Is Harvey in and is he going to kill me?” All she could do was nod weakly, shaking with laughter.

“Oh god why is this my life?” Mike whined, glancing into Harvey’s office. His boss was seated at his desk, reading over some papers for their current case, completely unaware that Mike was standing outside. “Donna do you think you could just-”

“No!” She croaked, “No you will go in there and face him like a man.”

“I’m not a man I am a child, I am a puppy please don’t make me-”

“Ross!” Came the sharp call and Mike spun quickly to see Jessica coming towards him. The kilt spun with him, lifted up just a little by momentum, and that was all it took for Donna to snap. She let out a shriek of laughter and buried her face in her hands. Mike saw Harvey glance up but thankfully Jessica blocked Mike from view.

“G-good morning, Ms. Pearson,” Mike stammered.

“You are properly dressed under that?” She asked, Donna choking on her laughter.

“Y-yes ma’am, as promised.”

“Good. Remind me again, who was the person you lost the bet to?” Her lips were curling into an amused smile and Mike felt his cheeks go hot.

“Donald. Donald Macintyre. He was a friend of my grandmother’s,” he said weakly.

“Oh god stop, its too precious, make it stop,” Donna pleaded in a breathless voice.

“Well, it’s good of you to honor your dues, Mike,” Jessica said, patting his shoulder. “And if Harvey is as immature about this as I expect him to be, just tell him I said it was alright. That and I’ll give him pro-bono work. That’ll shut him up.”

“Donna?” Asked Harvey from the intercom. “Is Jessica plotting with you or does she need me?”

Donna took a shaky breath. “N-no she’s just-” more laughter. “She’s just checking on something, you aren’t in trouble.”

“Why are you laughing? Is Louis wearing braces again?” Mike covered his face too keep Jessica and Donna from seeing how red it was.

“Oh no this is way better,” Donna told him, winking at Mike.

“Behave, Harvey,” Jessica said to the intercom, shooting a look at Harvey over her shoulder. Harvey stared at her.

“When don’t I?” but she left without a reply and he returned to his work with a confused frown, Donna turning off the intercom.

“Is it really that bad?” Mike asked.

Donna got up and came around to him, blocking him from Harvey’s sight. “No. Actually, It kind of suits you. In a weird way, at least.” She fixed his collar and tie, straightened his lapels and smoothed out the front of his blazer. “It’s adorable, actually. You could make this a thing, you know, every monday wear a-”

“Don’t, please don’t.” Mike begged. “I think Rene might be making more for me and I really don’t want to think about it.”

She laughed, but it was gentler. “Spin for me?” He glared at her. “Oh come on, just once!”

Mike handed her the files, swallowed his pride, kissed what was left of his dignity goodbye, and did a twirl. The kilt flew up enough to see the hems of his boxers, but hey, at least he was wearing boxers and at least Donna was controlling her laughter. Well, sort of. He did another twirl and came to a stop, only to see Donna’s phone aimed at him.

“Oh my god I hate you.”

“You are such a precious little thing,” she said, showing him the video she’d snapped of him. “I mean it’s ridiculous.”

“Can I please go off and face my demise now?” he begged, taking the files back.

“Yeah, yeah, go face Mordu, Merida.” She teased, pushing him towards Harvey’s office.

“Hey! I’m a Wallace if anything,” he shot back.

“Whatever you say princess.”

Mike groaned and stepped into Harvey’s office. the man kept his eyes trained on the pages he was reading, not looking up at the sound of Mike’s boots on the carpet. “I, uh, I have the files you needed, Harvey,” Mike said weakly.

“Good. Then we can get started on setting up the deposition for next week. We have a lunch today with Wyatt, you remember him I’m sure since you nearly ruined his life,” Harvey said, not even looking up, he waved for Mike to sit down, but he stayed standing. “And then after that we’ll need to sort out a strategy for this next round.” He held out his hand for the files and Mike gave them over. “I hope we can get out of here at a semi-reasonable hour, of course that’s reliant on how fast you can get your work done.” He reached for his coffee, brought it to his lips, and looked up.

Mike wasn’t sure which was better, the way Harvey choked on his coffee or the way his eyes nearly fell out of his head.

“I lost a bet?” Mike offered, red faced and fidgety. His hands toyed with the tartan, eyes downcast as Harvey just stared at him. Harvey would either throw him out or yell at him, that much he was certain of.

What he didn’t expect was the laughter. Harvey threw his head back and laughed, a giddy, boisterous sound, not like his usual chuckles or snide teasing barks. His whole body shook with it, eyes squeezed shut, laughlines deep set around his eyes beautiful and in desperate need of use. He tried to pull himself together, rubbing his face with his hand to snap himself out of it, but he took another look at Mike and fell into another fit of giggles. Mike wanted to be angry with him for laughing, wanted to curl up in a ball and die or have the floor open up and swallow him whole, but Harvey never laughed like that. And it was a beautiful sight. So what was a little more suffering just to see it a bit longer? At least he hadn’t shouted at him first. Mike could hear Donna laughing at her desk.

“Hold still,” Harvey said, breathless and red faced. “Hold still I need a picture.”

“Yeah be more mature about this, please,” Mike grumbled and Harvey just laughed more, pulling out his phone and snapping a picture.

“Well I could be making dick jokes, or try to pants you, but that would too much humiliation for one day,” Harvey said, getting up and coming over to him. “Do a twirl.”

“No.”

“Come on Mike, humor me.”

“You are humored enough, jerk.”

“Twirl,” Harvey commanded and Mike let out a put upon sigh and spun on his heels. The Kilt flew up and Harvey let out another slew of giggles. “So much for tradition, were you worried Jessica might hurt you for going commando?”

“She already threatened me with castration,” Mike said quickly, and Harvey shook his head. “Besides, you’d never let me hear the end of it and who knows what kind of gross, unsavory things are on the chairs here.” He grinned because Harvey knew exactly what kind of unsavory things might happen in the chairs they sat in, his chair being a prime example, as of last thursday when they had worked late and things had gotten a little out of hand. Harvey seemed to remember just as well, his eyes darkening ever so slightly as he stared at Mike.

“So how the hell did you end up in a kilt?” He asked. “And why are you wearing it instead of your suit?”

“Never make a bet with a 94 year old scotsman because you will lose,” Mike told him. Harvey raised an eyebrow. “One of Grammy’s friends, Donald. I take him to church almost every sunday and last week he wore a kilt to mass. Why I don’t know. But I teased him about it, just a little, and he thought it was funny. But then at lunch, and I blame this on the booze, I made a bet that I could beat Nathaniel, Howard, and Lucas, more friends of Grammy’s, at poker.”

“And let me guess, you lost.”

“Miserably.”

“Mike, you never insult a man in a kilt. They will ruin your life.” Harvey said in mocking concern.

“Yeah, I got that now, thanks.” Mike looked away, his face red.

“And you never challenged old men to poker.”

“Also noted.”

“Now go change.”

“No!” Harvey blinked. “I mean, can I just wear it please? I really don’t want to take Donald and all his friends to Atlantic City. And I had Rene make this and he demanded pictures and I don’t think it’s really all that bad-”

“You went to Rene?”

“Yeah and sorry in advance if he tries to make one for you. I think he’s on a kick.” He groaned and hid his face in his hands. “Please Harvey, I know you’re probably pissed, but can you let it slide just this once? Jessica doesn’t care and I promised Donald I’d follow through and He’s...” his shoulders sagged. “He’s Grammy’s closest friend- was Grammy’s closest friend.”

Harvey held up a hand to silence him. “Breathe, Kid.” A fond smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “I know as well as any other man that an act of good faith is important. Wear the damn kilt if you want.”

“Thanks, Harvey.”

“It actually suits you,” he mused, eyes scanning Mike’s body. He stepped around him, circling him, taken it all in. “I mean you pull it off fairly well. I’m not sure whether to praise Rene or your body.”

“Careful, you praise Rene he’ll put you in one too.”

“And I praise you, the wrong person deems it harassment,” Harvey said, his voice heavy and laced with humor.

“Of that’s been taken care of,” Mike said. “Jessica says if you can’t behave around this-” He twisted his hips, the kilt moving with him. “You get pro bonos for a month.”

“You thought I’d harass you?” If it were anyone other than Harvey, Mike would have thought he sounded hurt.

“I thought you’d ridicule me all the way to Queens and back,” he replied and Harvey laughed.

“Well you were right about that.” Harvey said, still standing behind him.

“Stop staring at my ass.” Harvey just chuckled and returned to his desk. “What do you need me to do now?”

“Just be yourself,” Harvey said lightly, grabbing the files Mike had just delivered and heading for the door, nodding for Mike to follow.

“Where are we going?”

“To pick a fight.”

“Well we didn’t get dressed up for nothing.”

Harvey grinned at him and Mike felt at ease. He was going to be fine.

Lunch with Wyatt was surprisingly fun, since Wyatt wasn’t a nervous wreck and they ate at a cozy bar instead of a fancy high end place. Mike got some weird looks and a few dickish remarks, but one look from Harvey and most people kept their mouths shut. A couple girls from the bar asked him for a photo, as did one of the waitresses. Harvey allowed it, saying it was proper humiliation for his loss. Wyatt was sympathetic, sharing a story about the time he had to spend the day in a toga, while commando, because he lost a bet to his girlfriend. Harvey even hinted at his own humiliation he’d suffered, back at Harvard, but he refused to say anything more than “It was a frat party and I was stupid”.

When they returned to the office, Mike ran into Louis and to his surprise, Louis beamed at him.

“You look fantastic,” he cried, clapping him on the shoulders. “What’s the occasion?”

“I, uh, lost a bet?” Mike replied, glancing at Harvey who was trying not to laugh.

“What to William Wallace’s nephew?”

“Funny cause I haven’t-”

“The Almighty says, "Don't change the subject, just answer the fuckin' question,” Harvey interupted, earning a scowl from Mike and a laugh from Louis.

“Don’t you have englishmen to be slaughtering, Stephen?”

“Says the man in the kilt.”

“Oh this is cute,” Louis said. “Harvey we should get you a kilt then you both can run around pretending to overthrow the monarchy.”

“Not happening, Louis,” Harvey said, turning to leave.

“The wig would suit you.” He added and Mike laughed. “No seriously, Kid, props to you for following through and wearing it.”

“Seriously?” Mike asked, walking with Louis back to his cubicle.

“Seriously. Name five guys who would be ballsy enough to wear a kilt to the office.”

“You?” Louis smiled. “Uh... Huh, I see your point. Though I bet with the right incentive, Harvey might be coaxed into it.”

“If by incentive you mean really expensive liquor or a new tesla, then yes.” They reached Mike’s cubicle and he grinned when Kyle ducked his head to avoid Louis’ glare. “Is that your family’s tartan?”

“Uh, yeah, it is actually,” he smiled. It was nice to be able to say, that something was his, something connected him to Grammy and the others, even if it was something as simple as a silly fabric.

“Good, you’re a smart kid Mike, you should always honor your family like that.” Louis patted his shoulder. “Listen, I may need some help on the briefs, since a certain someone-” he raised his voice so Kyle could hear, “screwed them up again. I know you’re Harvey’s pup and he’s territorial but do you think-”

“I’ve got some stuff to finish for Harvey but once I’m done, sure. I can look them over this weekend?”

“Fabulous.” Louis beamed and turned to go with a final “Alba gu bràth!” shouted over his shoulder.

“You and Louis just had a civil conversation,” Harold said in awe. “and he asked you for something nicely...”

Yeah, today was just a day for the bizarre.

Around six, Mike got a call from the nursing home. It was Donald and the others, asking if he’d join them for dinner that night, so they could gloat about their victory. Mike agreed, promising to be there as soon as he gave Harvey his work for the day. Marge insisted he bring Harvey along, so they could “finally meet the rotten bastard”. Mike smiled, wouldn’t she be surprised to see the “Rotten Bastard” was more of a handsome one. He told her he’d probably decline, but promised to ask anyway.

“You done with those reviews?” Harvey asked. He was reclining on his couch, flies in his lap, jacket draped over the arm of the couch, his vest unbuttoned. Mike nodded and handed them over. Harvey gave him a soft, fond smile and patted the cushion next to him. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

“It should be fairly straightforward, if we don’t screw it up and the judge isn’t a tool,” Mike said, sitting down next to him. He glanced out to the floor. Donna was seated at her desk but otherwise they were alone, most of the partners having left for the day. So he leaned into Harvey’s side, his chest humming at the warmth that rolled off his chest. “But then you seem to have the luck of drawing stupid judges, so I have a backup plan just in case.” Mike indicated and next page and Harvey nodded his approval.

“Clever pup.”

“Is there anything else you need tonight?”

“Why you got a hot date?” Harvey teased.

“In fact I do. Donald wants to gloat, so we’re getting dinner.” Mike pressed his face into Harvey’s shoulder. “You’ve been invited too.”

“Oh?” He sounded genuinely surprised.

“Yeah, they want to meet the rotten bastard that owns my soul,” Mike said and Harvey laughed.

“And that would be me I assume?”

“Well they weren’t talking about Louis.”

Harvey sighed and settled back into the couch. “And why should I go to this dinner and witness your humiliation? What do I get out of it?”

“Other than my humiliation?” Mike thought. “Expensive whiskey and good food?” Harvey looked at him, fairly unimpressed. “And maybe, if you’re really well behaved a little something afterwards?” He looked over his shoulder to see Donna packing up her things, the rest of the cubicles and offices, from what Mike could see, already empty. He moved the files from Harvey’s lap and took their place, straddling the older man’s hips and sliding his arms around his neck. “Perhaps a negotiation could be made?”

Harvey’s hands found their way to Mike’s hips and he smiled. “I’m listening.”

Mike turned up at dinner that night with Harvey on his arm and all things considered, sporting a kilt really wasn’t so bad. Donald had donned his as well and he greeted them with a booming laugh and a warm embrace. And to Mike’s unbridled, bitter, joy, when asked by Howard, Nathaniel and Lucas, if he wanted to play poker, Harvey made the mistake of saying, “I’ll trounce all three of you without breaking a sweat.”

Rene had a his kilt ready for a fitting two days later.


End file.
